


there existed an addiction to blood

by 19tozier (lucashemwow)



Series: blood of the fang [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blood Drinking, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Hand Jobs, M/M, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Vampire Eddie, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26998279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucashemwow/pseuds/19tozier
Summary: Richie would like to make it very clear that he is not a stupid person.Reckless? Absolutely. A certified dumbass? Without a doubt. But he is not and will not ever be a stupid person. He’s made some mistakes in his life and he will most definitely make more, but never in a way that has genuinely threatened his life.Everything that Eddie makes him feel turns him fucking stupid, though.(or: a blizzard, a bite, a confession)
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: blood of the fang [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986976
Comments: 6
Kudos: 110





	there existed an addiction to blood

**Author's Note:**

> titled taken from clipping.'s album of the same name. heavily inspired by 5 seconds of summers' _daylight_

Richie would like to make it very clear that he is not a stupid person. 

Reckless? Absolutely. A certified dumbass? Without a doubt. But he is not and will not ever be a stupid person. He’s made some mistakes in his life and he will most definitely make more, but never in a way that has genuinely threatened his life. 

Everything that Eddie makes him feel turns him fucking stupid, though. 

He’s known Eddie is a vampire since the night they met, when Eddie saved him from a few vamps in the club Bill had dragged him to that weren’t keen on leaving him alone. He’d swooped in, dark and severe and gorgeous, his teeth bared in a snarl until the other vampires had fled, and Richie had taken one look at him and felt his heart rip free from his chest to settle in Eddie’s palms. 

But, Richie would argue, that’s just _common fucking sense_. He would dare anyone to look at Eddie Kaspbrak, persnickety old vampire, and not completely fall in love. 

Besides, he had thought he’d never see Eddie again. Eddie had leaned in, still a respectable distance away but close enough to be heard, to murmur, “You should leave. Not everyone will be kind enough to save you.” 

His golden eyes had flashed in the dim lighting of the club. Richie had swallowed, his heart in his throat for an entirely different reason than fear, squeaked, “Sure thing, boss,” grabbed Bill from the vampire lover he had apparently snuck here to meet, and furiously jacked off the second they had gotten back to their apartment. He had brushed it off, willed himself to push the vampire out of his head, and tried to go about his life like nothing had ever happened. 

Except of course Eddie was friends with another vampire named Mike, and of course Mike was the vampire that Bill was fucking in love with, and of course that meant that suddenly Eddie was always around. Everywhere Richie turned, there Eddie was, infuriating and neurotic and exactly Richie’s fucking type. 

He’d tried to keep some sort of wall between them, eager to try and keep his sanity for once in his goddamn life, but Eddie had quickly and casually torn that down every time he argued with Richie just because he could. Somehow, Richie had blinked and Eddie was his best friend and Richie was so fucking in love he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

He will probably never know how to curb his impulsivity, so when Eddie had decided he’d needed to take a trip to the nearest little town to get some supplies, Richie had volunteered to go with him. 

They’re spending the weekend in a cabin in the mountains, all seven of them, Bill and Richie and Ben for team human and Eddie and his friends Bev, Stan, and Mike for team vampire. It’s just a few days away from the din of the city for New Year’s Eve, relaxing and sweet. Their little group had clicked together with a certainty that should be scary, considering half of their members were decades or centuries old vampires, but every time they’re all together feels _right_ in a way that Richie tries not to question. 

“Do you think they’re having an orgy back there?” he asks Eddie now, over the quiet sound of the radio. The drive to the next town over is long and Richie is already more tired than he should be on New Year’s Eve; bickering with Eddie is sure to keep him awake. 

Eddie scowls at him, barely taking his eyes off of the road. “You’re fucking disgusting, do you know that?” 

Richie grins. He will never get tired of getting under the skin of a vampire that had been alive to watch the colonies become a country. “I hope they wait for us to get back,” he continues as if Eddie hadn’t said anything. “I’ve been _dying_ for something like that to happen. Get it? Dying? Because you’re all—” 

“You’re not funny,” Eddie growls. Outside the window, the snow falls in thick sheets along the trees and the road. “I can’t believe people fucking pay to hear you talk.” 

Richie exhales, shivering a little bit as he does. It was certainly not his brightest idea to only wear a sweatshirt and jeans when the temperature is rapidly dropping below zero, and the heating in the car isn’t doing what it should be. He turns it up anyways, hopes that it’ll help unthaw his frozen fingers. 

“Sex sells, baby,” he croons, rubbing his hands together. “Not my fault that I’m a lean, mean, fucking machine.” 

Eddie scoffs. His hands tighten around the wheel of the car. He’s driving more carefully than Richie has ever seen him before, because the roads are icy and the headlights don’t do much to help them see, and Richie is not indestructible like Eddie is. “You’re fucking something, alright,” he grouses, reaching out to (gently, oh so gently) hit at Richie’s chest when he grins and opens his mouth. “Don’t fucking say it, don’t say you’re fucking—”

“Fucking your _mom_ ,” Richie says loudly over him, laughing at the hiss Eddie throws his way. 

“My mom is dead, asshole, she’s been dead for centuries. You need better jokes if you still think that’s—”

Richie doesn’t catch what happens. One moment the car is fine, inching steadily down the deserted street, and the next the wheels slipping, spinning them wildly around until they land half-buried in the thick snow at the edge of the road. 

They’re silent for several long moments. Richie’s heart is pounding, in both shock and a little bit of fear, and it takes him a moment to realize that both the radio and the heater have shut off. The engine does nothing more than sputter when Eddie tries to turn the key; the snow they’re in is too deep. 

“Fuck,” Eddie spits. “Fuck, okay. Are you alright?” 

Richie shivers. The cold is already creeping in and settling across his skin. “Yeah, I’m,” he gasps. “I’m fine. Not hurt, just. That was a lot.” 

Eddie’s hand twitches across the space between them, like he’s going to touch Richie, but he withdraws enough to grab his phone from the center console. He stares at the screen for several long moments, his face completely still, before he snarls a particularly aggressive string of curses that would have his mother rolling in her grave. 

“I don’t have any service,” he growls, grabbing for Richie’s phone next. Richie would protest if he wasn’t too busy trying to keep in his little bit of warmth. “And you don’t either, _fuck_. I’m so sorry, Rich, I didn’t mean for this to happen.” 

Richie shakes his head, curling his legs up to his chest and hugging himself in an attempt to stay warm. “Not your fault, Eds. Guess we’re stuck here for a bit.” 

Eddie looks troubled at this, glancing at the snow around them and then back at Richie. In the silvery moonlight, his skin is the same color as the frost outside. “Hopefully someone comes by soon. You need heat. Why the fuck are you only wearing a sweatshirt? Do you have a fucking death wish?” 

Richie whines softly, turning his head on the seat to look at Eddie. His protests die in his throat when he finds Eddie already looking back, his face tired but still otherworldly beautiful. Richie frowns, taking in the bruises dark under Eddie’s eyes and the veins spreading thick along the backs of his hands. In the dim light, they stand out sharper than they had at the house. The realization dawns slowly: he is trapped in an enclosed space with a starving vampire that he is ass over tits in love with, and no one knows where they are. 

“Eds,” he says, heavily. His breath clouds the air between them. “When was the last time you fed?” 

Eddie inhales sharply, his spine straightening. He looks away, his expression going carefully blank. “I was going to stop at a blood bank when we got into town.” 

Richie shakes his head. His shivers have given way to violent shudders at this point, ripping through his chest and spreading down his arms and legs. “Not an answer, Spaghetti Man.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie snaps automatically, his teeth bared, before he goes completely still and closes his eyes. He’s silent for several long moments before he breathes, “Twenty days, maybe twenty-one. I don’t know.” 

Richie’s gasp is loud in the thick silence of the car. “Eddie, what the hell? Why wouldn’t you fucking eat, you absolute dumbass?” 

The growl Eddie lets out is shaky, his spine pressing back hard against the driver’s side door. “Busy couple of weeks at work and blood banks were closed for the holidays. I didn’t fucking plan on this happening.” 

The silence returns. Richie doesn’t know what to do or even what to say, tongue tied for the first time in his entire life. Eddie looks like hell, simply put, his cheeks hollowed more than usual and his eyes dull. Richie isn’t sure how he missed it but he’s certainly not going to ignore it now that he knows. 

He reaches across the space between them, ignoring the way that Eddie flinches, and wraps his hand around Eddie’s wrist. Richie is so cold already that the temperature of Eddie’s skin doesn’t even register. They both stare at the point of contact for several long moments before Richie carefully murmurs, “You could drink from me.” 

Eddie stiffens. A carefully crafted mask has slipped over his features, turning him to stone. “You don’t know what you’re asking.” 

Richie frowns, squeezing Eddie’s wrist. The bones under his palm feel just as human as his own, even if he is hyper-aware that the man beside him is a predator. But Eddie could never hurt him, Richie is certain of that, so he takes a deep breath and says, “I do. I want to help you, Eds.” 

But Eddie shakes his head, glaring at Richie now. Anger streaks through the mask over his face. “You really do have a death wish, don’t you? I’m not going to fucking bite you, drop it.” 

“And if I don’t?” Richie challenges, pressing as close as he can get with the center console in his way. “What’re you going to do? Hold your breath until help comes? Try and get out of the car? Newsflash, asshole, you’re just as stuck as I am.” 

“I could tear this car into pieces if I wanted to,” Eddie snarls, his face breaking open now. The incandescent fury should be terrifying, but because Richie’s brain is so finely tuned into everything Eddie he still finds it strangely beautiful. “I could tear _you_ into pieces! We’re not doing this.” 

“You need to feed!” Richie protests. “You’ve already gone way too fucking long without it, you could die!” 

_“And I could fucking kill you if I fed from you!”_ Eddie roars. His wrist rips out of Richie’s hand to punch down on the dashboard; a hole opens up around his fist. 

The breath stutters out of Richie’s lungs. It should say something about him, he thinks, that he is so completely and utterly captivated by this angry and starving creature that could kill him without even thinking about it. Something stirs deep in his gut. 

“You wouldn’t,” Richie says, simply. “I trust you.” 

The noise Eddie makes at that could be described as nothing other than broken. He isn’t looking at Richie; he’s staring at the hole in the dashboard. His expression is wrecked. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he rasps. “If I lost control, if I hurt you—”

“You wouldn’t,” Richie says again, shifting so he can touch his fingertips to Eddie’s jaw and turn his head to face him. Richie trembles, from the cold and from how close Eddie’s lips are. “Please, Eds. Let me help you.” 

Eddie is silent for a long time. He searches Richie’s face, likely looking for any sort of hesitation, but Richie is more certain of this than he has ever been in his life. Eddie sighs, his eyes slipping closed, before he nods, once. He turns his head to press his lips to the inside of Richie’s wrist, murmuring against the thin skin, “Okay.” 

He’s gentle as he takes Richie’s hand, pulling it from his jaw to cradle it in between them. There is a reverent awe in his eyes when he brushes his thumb over Richie’s pulse point, a naked hunger spreading over his face. He pauses again, giving Richie one last chance to back out; when he doesn’t, Eddie leans his head down and bites into the skin of Richie’s wrist. 

It hurts for a brief moment, twin pricks of stinging pain, but the first slow pull of Eddie’s mouth makes Richie gasp. The cold inside of the car is forgotten in the heat that spreads from Richie’s chest outwards, lighting him up inside and drawing a quiet whimper from his throat. Eddie’s grip tightens on his elbow at the sound. He sucks again, longer this time, and Richie’s heart gives up on maintaining a steady rhythm. It gallops away inside his ribcage, pumping blood through his veins and directly into Eddie’s mouth, a part of Richie that is sliding down Eddie’s throat into his stomach where it will _stay_ —

Richie cries out. His hips jump off of the seat, thrusting desperately into the air. He’s only half-hard, his body sparing only the slightest bit of blood for his arousal; it feels like every other drop is racing towards the point where Eddie’s fangs dip into his skin, eager to give him everything. That does nothing to stop his brain from lighting up anyways, begging for release that he is certain only Eddie can give him. 

Hysterically, Richie wonders how the hell he forgot this part of a vampire’s bite. He’s never made a habit of being fed from but it’s happened once or twice, back in his bumbling college days, and it was intense then but it’s even more intense now. Eddie’s venom spreads through him, not enough to turn him but enough to release the endorphins that will make him forget that he is willingly held in the jaws of death. His hand shoots out, fingertips digging hard into Eddie’s shoulder. He moans loud enough that his throat aches with it. 

Eddie gives another sweet suckle. Richie can’t tell if he’s lightheaded with blood loss or desire. 

In all of the times that Richie fantasized about this, thought about Eddie’s teeth in his neck and his hand on his dick, he never thought it would feel like this. Richie is being turned inside out, burning up from being this far into Eddie’s orbit. Eddie’s eyelashes are starkly black where they brush his sharp cheekbones, so inhumanly gorgeous that Richie cannot handle it. He would tear himself open if it meant Eddie would be alright. 

One last gulp and Eddie draws back, far sooner than Richie wanted him to. His tongue laps against the bite mark on Richie’s wrist, catching the last drops of blood and closing the wound. When he finally looks up at Richie, his eyes are absolutely molten. 

“You could’ve taken more,” Richie tells him, slurring his words. He’s even more tired than he was, his eyelids drooping against his will. The cold draws back in now that Eddie’s teeth are gone. 

Eddie huffs a quiet laugh. In an uncharacteristic display of his strength, he hauls Richie over the center console and into his lap, their chests pressed together in the close confines of the driver’s seat. One of his arms wraps tight around Richie’s waist, the hand of the other going to cradle the back of his head. When he speaks, his voice is impossibly warm. 

“It was enough, darling,” he murmurs. His eyes are liquid gold, so soft that Richie feels it slide down his spine. “You are more than enough.” 

Before Richie can talk—if he even could, with how riddled his brain feels—Eddie kisses him. His lips are cold but Richie presses closer anyways, opening for him with a gasp that makes Eddie growl. Eddie’s mouth is metallic, the sharp bite of blood doing nothing to calm the fire still raging in the pit of Richie’s stomach. He is, suddenly, harder than he has ever been in his life. 

It feels like they were always meant to get here. The long years since they met have culminated in this moment, this turning of the wind, this irreversible change in who they are. Eddie pulls away to drag his lips down Richie’s throat, breathing damp over the fragile skin there. Richie squirms on top of him, his eyes falling closed, moaning brokenly when it pushes their hips together. 

Eddie’s hand leaves the back of his head to trail down his chest, flicking the button on his jeans like it’s nothing before his hand is wrapped around Richie’s dick. Richie chokes at the frigid sting of his touch but chases it anyways, feeling how close he is. It won’t be long at all, and maybe Richie would be embarrassed by how easily Eddie has wound him up if he wasn’t on the knife’s edge of pleasure. 

Eddie pulls him even closer, trailing kisses back up his jaw to his temple. “Come for me, sweetest,” he murmurs in Richie’s ear, jerking him fast and hard. “You’re so good for me, you did so well, let me see you come, Rich.” 

When Richie somehow pries his eyes back open, Eddie’s face is all he sees. The bruises under his eyes are now the same pale color as the rest of his face, his eyes so brightly gold that Richie is hypnotized. There’s the faintest of flushes along his cheek bones, just the barest hint of color, because he drank from Richie, that’s _Richie’s_ blood filling him so beautifully, _he did that_ —

Richie’s orgasm rises from his toes. It surges up and out, carrying him along in wave after wave of pleasure. His cock pulses in Eddie’s grip, the bite on his wrist throbbing in tandem, and Richie thinks he might be screaming but he’s not in his own head anymore. All he knows, all he feels, all he can touch and taste and smell is _Eddie_. Nothing else matters in this moment. 

When he comes back to himself, Eddie’s thumb is stroking over his cheekbone. Somehow, he’s been cleaned up without him even noticing, because of course Eddie is a fussy enough vampire that he keeps wet wipes with him wherever he is. Though, Richie supposes, tucking himself against Eddie’s chest, that’s not a vampire thing. That’s just an Eddie thing. 

When Richie clumsily tries to reach for Eddie’s pants, Eddie stops him, pressing a kiss to his palm. He shakes his head, smiling lightly. “Don’t worry about that, darling,” he whispers. He pulls Richie closer. “This is enough.” 

“I love you,” Richie mumbles into Eddie’s shoulder. It is a confession dragged from his chest because he doesn’t think he can hide it anymore. 

Eddie smiles against his jaw. “I know, sweetheart.” He pauses for one long moment, nestling his nose into Richie’s hair, before he exhales and says quietly, “If I had a soul, it would be yours.” 

Richie snorts. The effect of it is mitigated by how hard his teeth are chattering but he hopes it comes across all the same. “I told you to stop reading Twilight, Eds.” 

Eddie pinches his side, smirking when it makes Richie jump. “Asshole. I love you. Are you okay?” 

Richie is better than okay. He’s freezing cold and he’s exhausted but there is a happiness bubbling in his chest that drowns out everything else. Somehow, he’s certain that’s not what Eddie means, so he shrugs as best as he can and manages to get out, “M’fine. Cold. Hungry. Wanna go home.”

Eddie brushes a soothing hand up Richie’s back. “I know, baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have drank from you like this, you need sugar and a blanket. I’m sorry, Richie.” 

Richie shakes his head, burrowing as close as he can into Eddie. He’s freezing and Eddie’s skin isn’t helping but the comfort soothes an itch deep inside of him that he didn’t know was there. “Didn‘t hurt me,” he slurs. “Liked it.” 

Eddie goes still. His voice is full of wonder when he breathes, “Yeah, I didn’t.” 

Richie doesn’t have the energy to talk anymore. He lets himself doze in the comfort of Eddie’s arms, safe with the knowledge that everything’s alright. He barely stirs when his phone buzzes loudly in the cup holder some indeterminate time later. Eddie reaches for it, holding Richie to him with one hand while he reads whatever’s on the screen. 

“Mike’s coming to get us,” he murmurs after a moment, dropping the phone to the passenger seat and wrapping Richie back up again. “We’ll get you somewhere warm in no time.” 

Richie thinks he mumbles something back, face mushed into Eddie’s shirt as it is, but he can’t be certain. His brain is off-line, floating along in a haze, because Eddie makes him a little bit stupid. But, Richie thinks blearily, maybe that’s a good thing.

* * *

Later, after Richie has been bundled into several sweaters and drank his weight in apple juice, Eddie curls an arm around his waist. Around them, their friends cheer when the countdown hits zero and they officially enter the new year. Eddie’s mouth presses into the hollow behind his ear, a smirk curling his lips. 

“Happy New Years, Rich,” he murmurs. His thumb brushes over the bite mark on Richie’s wrist. 

Richie smiles. Yeah, only a little bit stupid.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading!! love u always <3
> 
> come be my friend on [twitter](https://twitter.com/19tozier) or [tumblr](https://19tozier.tumblr.com/)


End file.
